


Happy Inktober

by StarStruckAries



Category: Original Work
Genre: Inktober
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-10-02
Updated: 2018-10-04
Packaged: 2019-07-23 14:32:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 4
Words: 1,549
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/16160825
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/StarStruckAries/pseuds/StarStruckAries
Summary: All my writings from inktober. Not the best musings but hey at least I'm participating.





	1. Chapter 1

Poison

The moon was high in the sky as I lugged a small crate of herbs into the station wagon, placing them in the hidden compartment underneath the wooden seats next to the various pretty glass vials and toxic liquids which my father used. Shutting the wooden door to the compartment shut, I hopped out of the station wagon to see my mom and father arguing again as they did every move. Standing in front of the doorway to the house, where the candlelight illuminated the darkness, I could hear their heated discussion about the move.

“We can’t keep doing this Stanley! You said you’d find another profession but you keep going back to this one! Have you no shame! Our family… our family deserves better,” my mother pushed as she gestured towards the carriage which I had dubbed the lunar stallion, because we only rode in it on nights like these. Nights when we needed to get away. For another person had died, and there could be but one culprit.

“This is what I do Irma. You knew this when you married me,” my dad said through gritted teeth and clenched fists as he looked away from my mother’s eyes and a hushed silence fell between them as the footsteps of my older brother and sister stopped the conversation dead in its tracks. My brother holding some more crates while my sister lugged behind sacks of clothes to add to our little wagon. “The food has already been added father, mother. All we need to add is this last bit. We should leave before the sheriff comes,” my brother stated firmly looking from my father to my mother as I watched in the distance, fascinated by it all as a new conversation broke out between the three.

“Little girls shouldn't be listening to adult conversations,” my sister scolded as she came up from behind me and threw the bags of clothes into the station wagon, effectively interrupting my concentration to listen to the new conversation that had broke out between my older brother and my parents.

“Then maybe they shouldn't have conversations out in the open where people can hear them,” I bit back, sticking out my tongue as she sighed her curly hair blowing in the night breeze as she looked up into the sky, a sad look adorning her brown skin that glowed beautifully under the light of the full moon.

“Yeah, maybe they shouldn’t,” she said quietly and for a moment I felt bad for her. I always loved the moves. The thrill of running away. The new towns and scenes we got to see. It was all wonderful to me but my mom and my sister didn't like it, and my bother was slowly not caring for it either as was shown more and more by the small scale fights he was having with father. As I began to open my mouth to ask my sister why she didn't care for our late night moves, I heard the low yells off in the distance followed by the neighing of horses and the sound of multiple hooves hitting the ground. In an instance it became deathly quiet amongst our family as everyone knew what that sound meant. They were coming, and they were close. With haste, my brother rushed over to the wagon and deposited the last of the crates into it before turning to me and my sister with a panicked look on his face.

“Eleanor, Linette, David get into carriage now,” my father called out to my siblings and I as my mother and him rushed past us to get to the front of the wagon where the horses were waiting. Time was of the essence.

“In you go lil Lin,” my brother told me as he hoisted me up by my waste and placed me into the wagon before my sister followed after me and then David himself. Settling on the cot on the floor of the wagon, I picked up my bear and held it close to my chest while my sister sat beside me and wrapped a blanket around the two of us.

“Is everyone inside,” my mother asked as she looked back into the wagon from where she sat with my father at the helm.

“Yes, we’re all here and accounted for mother,” David replied as he settled in the back with the rifle close to his chest as he stood guard at the back of the wagon, Dad had taken off the break and with a crack of the whip the horses lurched forward and off as we wheeled away into the night and just in time too for in the distance I could hear them yelling.

“The poison maker got away again! The poison maker got away again.”

“Don’t they mean medicine,” I asked my sister only to be shushed and pulled closer to her warm embrace. After all, daddy wasn't a poison maker… he was the medicine man.


	2. Tranquil

Tranquil

 

The water was forbidden to us

The people of the sky

Yet I was drawn to it

Everyday of my short life

 

So in secret, I would go

When the sky bled red

Against the cobalt blue

That fateful day

Where I met you

The boy of ocean blue

 

Where the water meets the sky

That's where we met

You and I

A forbidden love

That should have never been

 

Fate tore us apart 

On that fateful day

Yet I still hold on to the words you used to say

 

That our future was ours to hold 

 

Within the midst of the storm

You were the eye

You were my rock

My tranquility   
  


Because where the water meets the sky

That's where we met

You and I

 


	3. Roasted

Roasted

 

 **R** emembering the first time I saw one, a shadow man. He was tall and aloof and in my mind looked like inspector gadget just with a long brown trench coat and a lighter tan hat. The only difference was that he had no legs and disappeared faster than when he appeared, tilting his hat briefly at me before the wind carried him away. Thats when I knew I was different from the pack.

 **O** n my 13th birthday I was determined to let the past lie, but as the seasons changed I noticed the knot inside my stomach building. It wasn't painful though but familiar. A familiar feeling of energy rushing through my body and to my finger tips.

 **A** t the time, I didn't know what to call it. Back then I was afraid of this instinctual feeling so much so that I buried it away. Something hidden can never be found if one doesn't look for it.

 ~~ **S**~~ ecret, thats what it was supposed to be. But when I turned 20, a man in a long brown trench coat appeared to me once again and whispered that he what I was

 **T** he truth, shall set us free… so they say. So when I stared down at my hands for the first time in years and saw pink and blue sparks flying from them I knew then and there what I was. A witch, a witched to be roasted in the fire


	4. Spell

Spell

Spells. The generic word for any type of word or thought that utilizes the principals of magic to alter reality. Simple right, rudimentary magic that you learned in the Magical Theory 101 the very first year you discovered you had the aptitude for magic. What is a spell, how to cast it, the different types. All of these things the basics.

  
“So why is this so hard,” I groaned to myself as I threw the book for advanced enchantments across the room and flopped backwards on my bed, letting my weight be absorbed into the foam mattress beneath me. The assignment for this course was ridiculous, create your own individualized enchantment. Simple right? Not! I had spent hours pouring over books of what made a good enchantment, how not to turn your enchantment into a hex, and even more so how to make your enchantment unique and specialized to you. Hours of painstaking research and I was no where near closer to creating one than I had started hours ago. As defeat slowly began to embrace me into a welcoming hug, my phone went off in a blaze. The little glowing screen making its own little cry for my attention as I rolled over and grabbed it, unlocking the screen in the process.

  
“Who is it this time,” I pondered as I tapped the message icon and opened up the messages that were from my best friend, Lexington, which displayed a gif of a person flipping a table with the caption “when the professor tells you that developing your own spell will be a breeze but you find out its not.” Seeing the image of the angry person, I let out a small giggle and a smile as I rolled myself off of the bed, standing up as I did so. Looking in the direction of the book I had chucked, I locked eyes with the evil paper spawn and walked towards him. I was gonna make this enchantment and it is going to be the best spell the world has ever scene.


End file.
